down her cheek, “I just want you to know that we love you and if you need a place to live, you can always come home.”
“ Dorrie,” my father would speak up, choking back the emotion, but trying to appeal to my mental state, “maybe we can turn the garage into a little theatre. I’ll put up some lights and some curtains and you can do your playacting with your stuffed animals like you used to. I have Mr. Zippy right here,” he would say as he held up a stuffed monkey. “Mr. Zippy misses doing Shakespeare and…we just want you back home where you’re safe, honey.”
And then the Chief of the Police would call a news conference.
“ We are in touch with the suspect, a thirty-four year-old temp who calls herself Dorrie Krakowski. Our negotiators are working closely with Ms. Krakowski and we ask for your prayers and a few hours of silence so that Ms. Krakowski can get her cat to come out of hiding. We have every hope that if Ms. Krakowski can retrieve her cat, she will come out of the apartment and the situation will end peacefully.”
As I turned off the hair dryer, I heard Heidi circling around the laundry basket, trying to make a comfy spot. There was something peaceful about cats. Even ones you rarely saw.
Suddenly, there was a knock on my door.
I crept slowly to the kitchen and replied to the wooden door.
“ Who is it?”
“ Building manager.”
My brain seemed to actually freeze.
“ Um…I just got out of the shower. Just a minute.”
Why did I say that? I just dried my hair. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I quickly opened the refrigerator, pulled out a bottle of cold water, leaned into the shower and poured it over my head.
Then I raced to the “Alex Box”, pulled out the shaving cream, tie, and the Ted’s Ribs and Chicken shirt, spritzed the men’s cologne around the place, threw a towel over my head and opened the door.
“ Hi. You must be Alex’s girlfriend,” he said as I rubbed my wet hair with the towel. “Sorry I caught you at a bad time.”
“ Oh, that’s okay,” I said peering out from under the towel.
“ I’m Nate, the building manager.”
Oh god. It was him. The cute playwright.
“ Hey---I know you! You’re the ice cream girl. Dorrie, right?”
Wait---was I Dorrie? Or Celia? What did Alex say? What did I say? What was my story? I know Alex had important Wall Street business, but we really should have had a meeting about this.
“ Oh yeah. I remember. Hi,” I simply replied.
I guess I was going with Dorrie.
“ You’re Alex’s girlfriend? Wow. I mean….I’m sorry. I meant that as a compliment. You caught me at my day job,” he said holding his hands in the “Stick ‘em Up” position.
“ Well, we all have to do it. That’s theatre,” I said nervously making conversation.
“ So you have one, too. What do you do?”
“ I work at a modeling agency.”
“ Really?”
There it was again. The incredulous reply that I could somehow be involved in the modeling profession.
“ I’m sorry,” he apologized again. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”
“ It’s okay. Get it all the time. I’m not a model. Just work in the office.”
“ Oh…sure. I mean…” he stumbled. “What I was trying to say…is that you seemed too intelligent to be involved in…the modeling industry.”
“ Well, thank you. It’s a living.”
“ Oh yeah. Me, too. So---Alex said there’s leak?”
“ Oh, it’s way beyond a leak, at this point,” I said as I led him to the main room.
“ Wow. This is bad,” he said as he looked up into the rafters. “Sorry about this. Maybe you guys could go over to your place for a bit. He said your apartment is being painted right now?”
Painted? That only takes a few days. We really should have had a meeting about this.
“ Well…it’s painting….and plumbing…and electrical
“ Dorrie,” my father would speak up, choking back the emotion, but trying to appeal to my mental state, “maybe we can turn the garage into a little theatre. I’ll put up some lights and some curtains and you can do your playacting with your stuffed animals like you used to. I have Mr. Zippy right here,” he would say as he held up a stuffed monkey. “Mr. Zippy misses doing Shakespeare and…we just want you back home where you’re safe, honey.”
And then the Chief of the Police would call a news conference.
“ We are in touch with the suspect, a thirty-four year-old temp who calls herself Dorrie Krakowski. Our negotiators are working closely with Ms. Krakowski and we ask for your prayers and a few hours of silence so that Ms. Krakowski can get her cat to come out of hiding. We have every hope that if Ms. Krakowski can retrieve her cat, she will come out of the apartment and the situation will end peacefully.”
As I turned off the hair dryer, I heard Heidi circling around the laundry basket, trying to make a comfy spot. There was something peaceful about cats. Even ones you rarely saw.
Suddenly, there was a knock on my door.
I crept slowly to the kitchen and replied to the wooden door.
“ Who is it?”
“ Building manager.”
My brain seemed to actually freeze.
“ Um…I just got out of the shower. Just a minute.”
Why did I say that? I just dried my hair. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I quickly opened the refrigerator, pulled out a bottle of cold water, leaned into the shower and poured it over my head.
Then I raced to the “Alex Box”, pulled out the shaving cream, tie, and the Ted’s Ribs and Chicken shirt, spritzed the men’s cologne around the place, threw a towel over my head and opened the door.
“ Hi. You must be Alex’s girlfriend,” he said as I rubbed my wet hair with the towel. “Sorry I caught you at a bad time.”
“ Oh, that’s okay,” I said peering out from under the towel.
“ I’m Nate, the building manager.”
Oh god. It was him. The cute playwright.
“ Hey---I know you! You’re the ice cream girl. Dorrie, right?”
Wait---was I Dorrie? Or Celia? What did Alex say? What did I say? What was my story? I know Alex had important Wall Street business, but we really should have had a meeting about this.
“ Oh yeah. I remember. Hi,” I simply replied.
I guess I was going with Dorrie.
“ You’re Alex’s girlfriend? Wow. I mean….I’m sorry. I meant that as a compliment. You caught me at my day job,” he said holding his hands in the “Stick ‘em Up” position.
“ Well, we all have to do it. That’s theatre,” I said nervously making conversation.
“ So you have one, too. What do you do?”
“ I work at a modeling agency.”
“ Really?”
There it was again. The incredulous reply that I could somehow be involved in the modeling profession.
“ I’m sorry,” he apologized again. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”
“ It’s okay. Get it all the time. I’m not a model. Just work in the office.”
“ Oh…sure. I mean…” he stumbled. “What I was trying to say…is that you seemed too intelligent to be involved in…the modeling industry.”
“ Well, thank you. It’s a living.”
“ Oh yeah. Me, too. So---Alex said there’s leak?”
“ Oh, it’s way beyond a leak, at this point,” I said as I led him to the main room.
“ Wow. This is bad,” he said as he looked up into the rafters. “Sorry about this. Maybe you guys could go over to your place for a bit. He said your apartment is being painted right now?”
Painted? That only takes a few days. We really should have had a meeting about this.
“ Well…it’s painting….and plumbing…and electrical
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